


Layover

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M, risky locations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Winchester's flight gets delayed in Toledo. However will he kill all that downtime?
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Layover

They had all expressed similar sentiments at the war’s end: “if you’re ever in town…” and many of them had probably even meant them; they’d shared and seen parts of each other usually reserved for spouses or nearest kin and those bonds were not dissolved by miles or by time. Only one invitation had differed from the others, delivered - with a stolen kiss! - by a cheeky Sergeant with more mischief than good sense. “If you’re ever in Toledo, look me up, Major. I’ll show you a good time.” 

Even now, his skin warmed to think of that devious little mouth pressed to his cheek. In his reimaginings, Charles grabbed the collar of Klinger’s uniform and held him still, using his mouth to both reward and chastise him for his daring. Palm sweating on the handle of his suitcase, he made his way to a bank of phones and asked the operator to connect him to AD 4344 and then held his breath until a familiar voice said, “Hello?” 

Charles couldn’t even manage the standard greeting. “Max?” 

“Major?” 

Charles closed his eyes. He’d never felt much pride in his title, but it still sounded good coming from that mouth. He wondered if Klinger would drop the title when he was under him or if, in being cried out, it would gain a new, erotic edge. 

“How are you, Max?”

“Who cares?  _ Where _ are you? You sound really close.” 

He’d forgotten Klinger had frontline experience parsing distance over a phone line; as company clerk, he’d routed and fielded calls all over the world. “I am. My flight was delayed and I find myself stranded in your beloved city until tomorrow evening.” 

“I’m coming to get you.”

“Really, it’s not necessary. I don’t want to put you out,” he said, because good breeding was difficult to drop even in the face of desire. 

“I’m the one who told you to call. Stay right there.” Charles thought he’d replaced the receiver when Klinger added, “I’ve missed you, Charles.” 

Then he was gone and Winchester could only sink back onto a chair and wait, wondering why he’d taken so long to realize what everything in him now confirmed as true. 

***

They saw each other across the terminal - dark, flashing eyes locking on pale, hopeful ones. They didn’t run to one another or embrace, but kinetic energy sparkled between them and made other travelers turn their head to regard the mismatched pair as they caught up to one another and shook hands. Charles never would have admitted it, not even to his darling sister, but he angled his fingers so that they caressed Klinger’s palm as they drew apart and the stunned little expression he won for his efforts thrilled him. 

“So, where would you like to go, Major?”

“It is your town. I defer to your judgment.” 

Klinger accepted this until they were in the car and out of earshot. There, he admitted, “I don’t have your fancy background, Major, but I know the polite thing to do is take you somewhere to eat or get a drink. Here’s the thing, though. I don’t know if I can keep my hands off you that long.” 

It was everything he wanted in the way of a glimpse of Klinger’s feelings. Reaching over, he rested his fingers on the Sergeant’s thigh to say, “Anticipation is no small part of pleasure.”

“Yeah,” Klinger’s eyes were riveted on those long fingers. “I don’t know when you changed your mind, Major, but I’ve clocked three years of the stuff.” 

“I’m flattered. And I will make you a deal. You take me to eat, first, and I will agree to the most depraved and extravagant fantasy you had in those three years.” 

Klinger perked up at that as Charles had hoped he would. “Deal.” 

While Toledo wasn’t Boston, Charles found it in himself to feel affection for the pumpkin glow of autumn street lamps, the dark green oilcloth on the table, the way Klinger held himself up and out, body yearning after his touch without even seeming to realize it. 

After dinner, they parked beside an alley below an apartment building that seemed comfortable and safe, if not necessarily upscale. Klinger opened Charles’ door and took his hand. The former Sergeant was practically vibrating with excitement as he led him into the shadowed alley and onto a fire escape, two floors up. 

“Klinger, we are outside!” 

“Uh-huh. Turn around, Major.” 

Having made the deal, Charles did what he was told, placing his hands against autumn-cold brick. “There is an alley cat watching us, Max.” 

“Maybe he’ll learn some new tricks,” Klinger said, undoing Charles’ belt. 

Winchester listened and heard rustling as Klinger took off his coat and made a prop for his knees; he heard, too, the sounds of the city: traffic, some industrial booming that spoke of factories, the piercing cry of a train whistle. But his other senses faded the moment Klinger ducked behind the drape of his coat and began to use his tongue. 

Long, slow strokes demonstrated that the Sergeant was in no hurry and though he was chilled and exposed and balanced on thin slats of metal two stories up, Charles said nothing to speed him on. When Klinger held him open, his knees trembled and almost buckled, and he leaned forward, heavily, when Klinger reached around to stroke him. 

“Max, you are killing me,” he wailed, not caring, in that moment, if all of Toledo heard him. “Please, darling…please let me finish in your mouth.” 

Klinger didn’t make him turn again; he just scooted around in front of him. One of Charles' hands slid down a windowpane to grip the railing of the fire escape; the other came down on Klinger’s shoulder, where his fingers went white when the Sergeant swallowed. 

Ignoring the make and cost of his coat, Charles sank down to sit beside him. He was so deliciously done-in that he didn’t even move when Klinger fixed his zipper and his belt. When his breathing evened out, he chanced a look at his lover. “Interesting fantasy, Sergeant.”

“In the original version, you threw pebbles at my window, but since you flew all the way here, I thought I’d spare you. So how do you feel about slumming, Major?” 

“Better than I would have imagined. However, I think I’d like to see to you under a roof, if you are amenable.”

“You’re in luck.” He pushed the window open. “Welcome to chez Klinger, Major.” 

Charles smiled as he ducked inside; his handprint was now on the outside of Klinger’s bedroom window. 

The apartment’s interior felt blessedly warm; Charles let his new lover take his coat and bag, but he was well aware that Max hadn’t gotten to enjoy his touch yet. 

“Flattered as I am that your most depraved fantasy centered on my pleasure, beloved, please tell me, now, how best  _ I _ may please  _ you _ .” 

Klinger’s mouth fell open. The confidence he’d shown so much of on the chilly balcony vanished under the soft evening lights and Charles realized that Max needed a little help. 

“Or, if I could offer a suggestion?” 

Klinger nodded, his eyes speaking. They said:  _ yesMajorbabyplease. Yes.  _

“There is much I would make up for, darling. My behavior in Korea, foremost. So, would you return with me, in imagination at least, to that terrible place?”

Max nodded, but didn’t move as the proudest, wealthiest, most prestigious man he’d ever met proceeded to construct a blanket tent over his bed and indicated that the Sergeant should enter. Max did and then welcomed Charles into his arms. 

“This is how it should’ve been,” he agreed, snuggling into his arms, breathing in the smell of him. 

Charles looked down his body and smiled. “You would have been in different attire.” 

Klinger searched his face. “You didn’t mind the skirts, sir?” 

Charles cupped his face, stole kisses from his startled mouth. “Maxwell, you only call me ‘sir,’ when some sort of negative emotion is in play. This time, I suspect it is uncertainty or fear, so permit me a clarification. When I fantasize about you and your lovely form, I sometimes dress the dream of you in pants and sometimes in skirts and sometimes in those flower petal tops you used to favor with fatigues. I sometimes call you Corporal (Sergeant lacks the same music and familiarity) and I sometimes call you my sweet girl, but I always call you beautiful. So, if you retained your wardrobe and wish to wear it, you may always do so with me. Does that serve to set you at ease?” 

“Do you want me in a skirt now, Major?” 

“I want you in whatever will most increase your pleasure, my dear.” 

Max made a sign to tell him to wait and returned in a blue mini skirt the color of a corvette outside a malt shop on a summer evening, its playful paint job kissed by cotton candy neon. “My dear girl… I do not remember you wearing anything this, ah, truncated in Korea.”

“I would’ve for you. Some stuff you don’t wanna share, Major.” 

The sight of those pale pleats against firm, dark legs  _ was  _ a sight Winchester would have wanted all to himself. 

“Are you saying, my bright, beautiful girl, that you wish to be mine and mine alone?” 

“I wished it back there every day.” He gave him a knowing, teasing look. “Sometimes more than once a day.” 

Charles hauled him onto his lap only to make another pleasing discovery; he wore nothing beneath the skirt. “Impatient, darling?” 

“Three years, Charles.” 

The Major made up for each and every one of them. 

Afterward, their tent deflating around them, their limbs a surprisingly felicitous tangle, he admitted, “I did not really need to fly anywhere, you know.” 

Klinger laughed into his neck; he’d kind of suspected as much, but who was he to complain if the Major needed a little subterfuge to approach him? It had worked out. “So, what you’re saying is that we don’t exactly have to get up early and rush to the airport, right?”

Charles kissed his nose. “Just so, pet.” Privately, he added,  _ Maxwell, whether I leave this city by plane or train or Roman triumph, I am most definitely not leaving without you.  _

End! 


End file.
